


My husband's the God of Assholerie

by orphan_account



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mr. and Mrs. Smith - Freeform, They're married btw, and Secrets Identities, kinda crack fic too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 11:47:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13950930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Thor's the perfect house spouse to his scientific doctor husband, Bruce; he takes care of their home, spends his days half naked in robes, works as a freelance politics journalist and cooks most of their meals.Oh, andsometimeshe's on mission to save the Earth from aliens' invasions, with his teammates The Revengers.Bruce doesn't know anything about his extra activities; and why should he? They've only been married for two months. Thor's waiting a full year before confessing his dirty secrets.Or: The Mr. & Mr(s). Smith!AU the Thruce fandom didn't need but now got!





	My husband's the God of Assholerie

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mad_marquise](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mad_marquise/gifts).



> OK I’m already laughing my ass off at the idea of this AU and I haven’t even begun to write it. I think it’s going to be priceless. Basically, it’s a mix of Mrs & Mr Smith!AU and The Incredibles!AU (I never thought I’d ever write that sentence in my life). So be prepared to mostly read crack, fluff, misunderstanding and couple’s bickering.  
> EDIT: After finishing writing it, it turned out way more angsty than I anticipated lol. Sorry not sorry? There’s still a happy ending and lots of fluffy feelings! I swear! God I’m so bad at writing fics… 
> 
> Eternal thanks to my best beta reader and fellow fic writer [@mad_marquise](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mad_marquise)! You're the best! Thank you so much!!

**_Honey, what’s in your pocket?_ **

  


“I’m off to the office!” Bruce shouts as he finishes putting on his coat and gloves, tucking his umbrella under his arm — the weather news had said it may rain in the afternoon. “See you at dinner!”

 

His husband replies back, screaming from the kitchen, “Wait, my dear, you forgot something!”

 

Bruce looks behind his shoulder, wondering what he’s forgotten this time. He has his metrocard, his keys — yep, his phone is his jeans’ back pocket, and he’s also thought of bringing some fruits for his late morning break.

 

Thor appears in nothing but a large robe, opened at the front so _everything_ is showing. Bruce tries his best not to look at his husband’s privates, because he doesn’t want to be late by starting something they _both_ can’t finish. “What is it?” He asks instead, looking at the other’s eyes, greyish blue as the sky outside.

 

 _“Here._ ”

 

Thor leans over him, enjoying their height differences by pushing Bruce against their front door. “Where’s my goodbye kiss, darling? My day will be ruined if I miss it.”

 

Bruce puts his hands on his husband’s chest, playing mindlessly with his body hair, enjoying his warmth. God, he’s lucky to have Thor in his life, he’s gorgeous and funny and caring… The least he can do it to tolerate his little whims.

 

“Alright, _alright_. Don’t pout like that. Come here.”

 

He takes Thor’s face in his hands and pulls him over him, kissing him with _way_ too much heat for a morning kiss. They embrace for a full minute, and both separate with short breaths and red cheeks.

 

“See you tonight, my dear.”

 

Bruce steals one last kiss then rapidly flees out the door, before Thor gets the chance to trap him in bed and make him call in sick at work. “Have a nice day!”

 

Thor looks at his husband walking around the corner, waving at him dramatically like he’s leaving for war. By Odin’s beard, he absolutely _loves_ playing the perfect house spouse; making meals, cleaning up their apartment, staying inside half naked all day. This lifestyle is his favorite, and he really likes to take care of Bruce when he comes home exhausted.

 

He surprises himself by being so involved in someone else’s well-being besides his own. He wasn’t the most caring boy when growing up, but meeting the man of his dreams and marrying him really changed his mindset and his way of expressing his feelings. He’s way more open in his relationships now, and it’s helped him make up with his brother Loki — whom he had lost contact with in their teenage years, when they both had learned he had been adopted.

 

His phone suddenly rings. _Right_ , _don’t dream too much, Odinson. You’re not_ that _ordinary._

 

“Hello, lazy ass. You’re up already? We’re waiting for you for a mission briefing.”

 

“Shit, yes, I’m connecting. Give me two seconds, okay?”

 

“Move, trash king! _Move!”_ He hangs up on Brunnhilde while running to his office — a single room next to the bedroom. At first, it looks formal and quite empty, with only a desk, a computer and one chair.

 

But when he presses his hand on the table’s surface, the whole room’s setting shifts in fluid motions to reveal a large TV screen covering the wall, _way too many_ weapons on a neon lighted panel next to it and a large hammer hanging of the ceiling. The technology is part-Asgardian magic — thanks to Loki — and part vibranium mechanisms — thanks to Shuri.

 

T’Challa appears on the screen as soon as Thor turns it on. “ _Your Majesty._ ”

 

“ _Likewise_ , Black Panther. I’m sorry for my lateness.”

 

“Don’t stress yourself over it,” T’Challa laughs quietly, “we’re all fully aware that you’re still recovering from your honeymoon trip.”

 

“I’m not!”

 

“Like hell you’re not,” Brunnhilde joins in, appearing on the screen as well in a new window, with Loki by her side. “You’re butt naked in a meeting with Wakanda’s king.”

 

Thor jumps out of his seat and rapidly puts on his under-armor pants. “Okay, I’m _really_ sorry, I promise it won’t _ever_ happen again—”

 

Brunnhilde is already laughing at his pathetic excuses, while Loki smirks at his negligence. It feels like he’s a child who’s just embarrassed himself in front of the whole classroom… T’Challa seems to take pity on him and he coughs loudly to get everyone’s attention, declaring:

 

“Revengers, you’ve been called to disassemble a military operation in the south of France, in a shed hidden in one of Marseille’s ports. The target is a radical group of guns traffickers, linked to the last contact Klaue had in the black market. Your mission is to destroy all weapons you will find there, neutralize everyone on the spot, and collect all the intel you can get your hands on.”

 

“Excuse my words, Your Majesty, but that mission sounds rather… _mild,_ for our specific skillset.” Loki replies, voice betraying his annoyance. Thor silently agrees with him; they’re normally called into resolve situations where magic or alien tech are involved, not just regular humans trading war machines. They could easily blow up their entire operation from where they now stand, with a strike of lighting or one of Loki’s sleeping spells.

 

“To be truly honest with you, I’d have gone myself if I could have.” T’Challa confesses, speaking more closely to his mic. “The thing is… I’m stuck in a royal _faux-pas_ and cannot leave Wakanda until it is revolved.”

 

“Why not send Captain America then?” Loki looks more and more annoyed by the minute. Brunnhilde doesn’t say much, probably curious as to see where the exchange will end. Thor’s skeptical himself.

 

“These missions are _his_ speciality,” Loki continues, “with the help of The Falcon and Black Widow. You could even send his toy-boy the Winter Soldier—”

 

“Loki, please, _stop it_. I get it, you’re not used to these types of missions. You must understand that I’m asking you to do it more as a personal favor than as one of this world’s leaders. I wouldn’t count on nobody else to send in there.”

 

“What about Nakia? Or one of your personal soldiers?”

 

Thor is becoming really bored by their banter; he leaves them to their discussion while finishing getting dressed, putting on his armor in the corner of the room — so any of the other three parties will have to see his bare naked arse once again. He fixes his eyepatch and takes Mjöllnir in hand. He’s already made his decision, anyway; he doesn’t really care to fly to Europe for a basic human mission. He’s rather glad about it, honestly, because it means he will be back home in time so Bruce won’t have to worry himself over his absence.

 

He’s “officially” a freelance journalist working for an international paper about politics and nations’ relationships, so his cover can justify his many travels most of the time. It’s way more difficult to find excuses for his injuries, so he often asks Loki to hide them with his magic. He’s never been in mortal danger, and he doesn’t want to bring Bruce into his superhero secret lifestyle; saving the world is a huge part of his life, but he unfortunately cannot share it with him.

 

“Your Majesty, please excuse my annoying brother.”

 

“Eh! _Fuck off!”_

 

“We will go and get the work done, rest assured. But you owe us one.” Thor winks, half-joking, half-hoping for some payoff. The last time T’Challa offered them something, it was a gorgeous dinner at his royal palace and _never_ in his thousand years of life has Thor eaten so well.

 

“Of course, I never forget my debts.”

 

Voices come creeping behind him, from Shuri and Nakia. Okoye, at T’Challa’s right side as per usual, lifts her gaze at their arrival.

 

“T’Challa! Get your ass out there! M’Baku is destroying our living room out of boredom! Go entertain your _boyfriend_ before I put him in a box and mail him to Australia!”

 

“My friends, I’m sorry but I must go. Please stay safe, and good luck.”

 

They don’t have the chance to reply before T’Challa’s screen goes blank. Thor gives a wide, dumb smile at his fellow Revengers. “You’re ready for some action?”

 

“ _Of course_. We weren’t the ones being late.” Thor ignores his brother’s remark and shakes his head in Brunnhilde’s direction.

 

“Meet you on location in thirty minutes?” She asks instead. He nods, smiling even harder:

 

“Yes. I’m already ready to go. See you!”

 

He opens his tiny office’s window and flies off by thunder. Maybe he will even have the time to bring back some kind of gift for Bruce — those French people are known for their romantic spirits, hopefully they’ll have the perfect present for him.

 

***

 

Thor has found the _cutest_ gift for his husband; two matching t-shirts with teddy bears cuddling printed on the front, and a huge _l’amour avant tout_ printed on the back. The clothes are bright red and look quite terrible, but he’s already melting at the simple thought of them spending their weekend on the couch, only wearing their matched t-shirts and eating junk food.

 

Okay, maybe he’s still a tiny bit in his honeymoon phase. So what? He’s an old soul, for stars’ sake, so meeting a soulmate is an incredibly beautiful thing for him. Bruce is special; their marriage is special. Even if he’s mortal and aging, they’ll find a way to work it out — once Thor finally decides to drop the _I’m-an-alien-god_ bomb on him.

 

(They’ve only been married for two months, he still needs to gather some courage before risking their happiness).

 

The mission had been finished in less than two hours, and The Revengers took the extra time left to have a decent lunch by the sea. The strong smell coming from the waves and the winds blowing against their chests were strangely smoothing, and Thor has felt very relaxed since. He’s in the _best_ snuggly mood right now; he’s going to bury Bruce in kisses and hugs until he throws him out of their bed. He doesn’t even care. He’s got an overload of love to share, and what’s good a husband other than receiving his adoration in the most ridiculous ways?

 

He flies down on the top of their rooftop, not risking going back to his office by the window in case Bruce’s gotten home early. He leaves his cape and armor in a locker he put there for the times when he needs to change his outfit before coming home — it’s a gentle routine he appreciates. He doesn’t know yet how he’s going to justify his present, but he couldn’t care less at the moment. He missed his bear man, and he needs a kiss as soon as possible.

 

He enters the building, thinking about taking a nice, hot and steamy shower so he’ll smell nice at his husband’s arrival. He could also order them some cake from the bakery nearby; he’ll invent an excuse for his joyful mood, or maybe simply confess his desire to celebrate life today.

 

His good spirit can’t be ruined by anything.

 

...Except maybe by finding Bruce in his office, sitting on his chair surrounded by all his weapons and tech — _shit,_ Thor didn’t hide them before leaving, _shit, shit, shit_ — and pointing a gun at his face, right between his eyes. _Sweet._

 

“Who are you?” Bruce asks through gritted teeth. His eyes are red, abused from a mix of angry tears and profound despair. His expression breaks Thor’s heart into hundreds pieces of glass.

 

“My love, let me explain—”

 

“ _Who. Sent. You. After. Me._ ” His husband is getting more agitated by the second. He’s trembling from fury, but his aim remains impeccable. _That’s odd_ , absently notes Thor.

 

“Nobody, baby, look, I haven’t told you the _whole_ truth about me—”

 

“It’s Ross, isn’t it?! That’s son of a coward, he’s cruel enough to make up such a monstrous plan! Making me fall in love with a gorgeous man, letting me marry him so he could monitor my every movement through you! That’s… That’s completely _sick!_ ”

 

Thor’s losing patience and really doesn’t like where their misunderstanding is leading them. Thunder breaks the sky and shuts down all the lights from the room; he takes those few seconds of surprise to grab Bruce’s shoulders and confront him, face to face:

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but _I love you_. This isn’t a false promise. Our love is true as— some kind of poetic horseshit I don’t recall at the moment. I’m a secret agent, Bruce. I’m a superhero. I’m actually a _god_ , the God of Thunder, I’m from another planet called Asgard where I’m king and protector of the Nine Realms, and I’m so sorry I had to hide it from you but I couldn’t put you in danger—“

 

Bruce’s hand smashes his husband’s mouth to stop his ranting. His eyes are still angry, strangely green at the corners, but he calmly says:

 

“You’re... an alien king? I’m married to _a god?_ ”

 

“Surprise…?” Thor mumbles through his fingers, eyebrows raised in worry.

 

“We met at a bar in Los Angeles!”

 

“I was on a mission, undercover, but you caught my eyes and I knew I’d regret it all my life if I had let you go without asking for your name.”

 

“Wait.  _I_ was on a mission too.”

 

“A mission of what? Like a science convention?”

 

Bruce slightly loses his distressed look, and grabs his own face in his hands. He mutters, beginning to laugh like a possessed man:

 

“ _I’m_ a secret agent. A superhero. I’m _The Hulk_ and I’m working with The Avengers.”

 

“What in the hell!”

 

“Likewise!”

 

They look at each other, both starstruck and smiling hysterically. What are the odds? What are their lives?

 

Could they be even more made for each other, at this point?

 

“I’m dating _The Incredible Hulk_?!”

 

“We’re married! And you’re _a god!_ ”

 

“By Odin’s beard, we’re married and you’re the Hulk.”

 

“Wait. Does that mean I’m also king by alliance?”

 

“Ah, yes indeed. I was going to talk to you about your royal duties, but in several months, once we’d settled nicely in our place and routine— ”

 

“Oh my god, I’m gonna faint…”

 

Bruce sits down right on the floor, Thor joining him immediately, hugging him with all his strength — now that he knows he won’t hurt him by accident.

 

“So you’re not a real doctor?”

 

“I am, I still have too many PhDs, and a lab at Stark’s tower. A gamma accident actually created The Hulk, years back. I’ve been working with Tony since then on controlling his impulses and learning how to live with him without losing control.”

 

“That’s… That’s _stunningly impressive."_ Thor’s completely amazed at the realization, his voice coated in admiration and tenderness. “I’m so proud to be your husband.”

 

“Bet your parents will like me way better when they learn I’m not just a dumb human.”

 

“Ah! True indeed. My mother adores you already, but my father sure needs to be taught a lesson about tolerance and humility. Let’s surprise him, one day. Let him meet The Hulk and kiss right in front of him.”

 

Despite his inner distress, Bruce can’t help himself but giggles at the idea.

 

“Let’s do it for our first year anniversary, alright? I think we’ll need some more time to process all of those new… _developments.”_

 

“You're right, my dear. As I’m still deeply sorry about our secrets and uncovering them in such a crude way, I’m honestly glad to have it gotten it all off my chest.”

 

“I feel rather liberated myself…” Admits Bruce in the tiniest voice. He kisses his husband’s temple, tasting sweat and sea water on his skin. “So you’re not a journalist?”

 

“I’m afraid not. But I’m technically very invested in politics.”

 

“Ruling a city does that to people.”

 

Thor kisses him full on the mouth, laughing, delighted by his lover’s dry sense of humor despite anything. They’ll survive this new turn of events. He has faith in their union and the quality of their shared love.

 

“Alright, let’s skip dinner and crash for the night. Sounds good?”

 

“Marvellous,” Bruce replies, almost falling asleep. The rush of anxiety must have drained him of all energy; Thor himself is completely exhausted.

 

“We have so much more to talk about,” Thor says, “But remember this; I love you, sincerely.”

 

“'Love you too, God of Asshole.”

 

Thor’s laugh is so sweet, it’s like honey to Bruce’s ears. He feels stupid for his reaction, and even stupider for having been worrying about his secret identity for months simply to learn his truly perfect husband is in it as well.

 

God, they’re so bad for each other and yet the most _perfect_ pairing. Bruce kisses his mouth one last time, before falling dead asleep on his shoulder, leaving Thor the responsibility of getting them both to bed. And Thor couldn’t be happier but to provide what his _incredible_ husband wants and deserves.


End file.
